


Five Nights in Sunnydale

by zabjade



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: Instead of working at the Doublemeat Palace, Buffy gets a job at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, where creepy things have been happening, especially at night. She transfers to the open position of night guard in order to investigate.





	1. 1st Night

**Author's Note:**

> No knowledge of Five Nights at Freddy's is needed to understand this story. In fact, not knowing anything is probably for the best, as you'll get to discover what's going on with Buffy, Spike, and the rest.

**Author's Note:** This story is being written for the Halloween Event at the [Hidden Gems discussion forum](http://spuffygems.boards.net/). 

 

It mocked her. She’d fought vampires, demons, even a hellgod. But this? It was just waiting there, some sort of gross, congealed white… _stuff_ with a sheen of orange. Buffy poked dubiously at it with the scrub brush.

“This can’t possibly be real cheese,” she said, giving it another poke. It sort of _jiggled_ on the pizza pan, but didn’t come off. “I know cheese. I _like_ cheese. This? This is _so_ not cheese.”

The evening guard snorted out a laugh before taking a sip of his coffee. She knew his name wasn’t Barney, but he sort of looked like a Barney, so that was the name in her head. Not-Barney, evening guard of the pizzeria with the not-cheese. Why had she thought working at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was a better idea than taking the job at the Doublemeat Palace? She grimaced, then sighed heavily. At least there were _some_ benefits to this place. Like the fact that her discount meant Dawn could come and visit with the animal-themed animatronics.

Buffy shuddered at the thought. Her sister loved the ratty old things, no matter how badly they smelled, but they’d always given Buffy a serious case of the wiggins. The fact that they wandered around freely after hours to keep their servos from locking just made them even more of the uber-creepy. At least none of these robots cooked up drugged baked goods or were sexbots. Though the skeevy way some of the older customers looked at that duck thing….

“You know,” Not-Barney said, breaking into her thoughts before they could go farther down that scary road, “there’s an opening for the night security guard. Again.”

“Again?” she repeated, starting to scrape off the not-cheese residue from the next pan. She vaguely remembered seeing an opening for the night guard position when she’d been putting in her application. That couldn’t have been more than six days ago. “What happened to the old guy? Or new guy, I guess.”

“Same thing that usually happens.” Not-Barney shook his head and took another sip of coffee. “They get scared of the lovable fuzzballs and either put in their notice or just up and vanish.”

Just up and vanish? Buffy frowned faintly. In most places, maybe that wouldn’t mean much, but here in Sunnydale, “just up and vanished” was usually a pretty bad sign. There was a large part of her that struggled to even care. If the vanished guards were actually dead, that meant they weren’t stuck here anymore. If they’d been bad people, they couldn’t cause any more trouble. And if they’d been good….

“What are the qualifications for the job?” she asked, trying to bury her thoughts.

She needed to jump back into the hero gig full tilt and try for the job. Willow was back into computers big time, now that she was off the magic. She could probably forge any documentation Buffy would need.

The evening guard grinned. “Just a high school diploma.”

She blinked at that. It was so not what she’d been expecting. “Really? Huh. I thought it’d be something, I don’t know,” she gestured vaguely with the scrub brush, “ _more_. Like some kind of law enforcement class at night school or something.

“Nope. Just the diploma. That’s pretty standard for a security guard position, though some places do look for a little something extra. So, how about it? The job used to just start you at minimum wage, but with the high turnover, they’ve upped it, trying to get people to stay on. So, pay is a lot better than what you’re doing now.”

“Uh-huh.” Something about that seemed as dubious as the not-cheese. “If the pay is so great, why aren’t you taking it?”

Not-Barney snorted. “Because I’ve been here long enough with enough raises that I’d lose money if I took it.” He finished his coffee and tossed the disposable cup in the trash. “I can put in a recommendation for you. With you already being a Fazbear Entertainment employee, you could easily have the job by tomorrow night. The hours are midnight to six in the morning. Think you can handle it?”

Buffy lightly bit her lip. With patrolling, midnight to six meant she’d be out of the house all night.

_Like you aren’t already?_

She ignored the thought, and tried really hard to forget about what tended to keep her out so late. It didn’t work. The memories trickled in through the tightly clenched fist of her mind. Spike. The dead man whose body made her feel alive. Hands, lips, tongue. Other things. All reminding her that she wasn’t a walking corpse.

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to think about what Not-Barney had said. Could she handle being a night guard? She’d be able to stay up in the morning long enough to see Dawn off to school and then sleep until she got back. They could try for the whole sisterly bonding thing after school was out of the day. Honestly, it would mean more time spent with Dawn during each day. And even if nothing more sinister was going on than people getting the heebie-jeebies, the pay increase would be much of the good.

“Yeah,” she said. “I can handle it.” She glanced down at the half-cleaned pizza pan with a shudder. “Anything has to be better than this.”

And maybe a mystery to focus on would keep her from giving in to temptation. Again.

 

**...**

 

Buffy sighed and leaned back in her chair as the weird, recorded phone tutorial finally stopped. Not-Barney – who was apparently named Kevin Wilson – had been right about how fast she could get the job. She’d gone in for her usual kitchen shift only to be told to come back later, given a new uniform, and sent home.

She fidgeted as she glanced around the office. There were two sliding metal doors, both of them designed to slam closed and lock at the push of a button. Other buttons turned on the lights right outside those doors, so she could look through the windows at the hallways on either side of the office. There was a desk, of course, with the computer, phone, and a small fan.

Listening to Phone Guy had been her only real training, beyond a few tips from Not-Barney. It all boiled down to basically the same thing. The animatronics were programmed to roam at night, so she shouldn’t worry too much about them wandering around. If she was too weirded out by the idea of them coming into the office, she should use the doors, though keeping them closed for too long could short out the power. That sounded like a really weird and inefficient design to her, but what did she know?

She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, bored and very aware that it was just her and the robots in the building. She could feel the creeping numbness of depression as it crawled up her spine, invading her brain. It was always there, but she’d been getting better at forcing herself to ignore it. Or at least to pretend it wasn’t really there. When there were too many people around, it was harder to pretend, but when she was alone, it was harder to care. Which made it easier to let herself drown. The only time she….

She desperately leaned forward and started toggling through the various camera feeds on the computer monitor. The hallways were both clear. Pirates Cove was clear, except for Foxy the pirate fox, who was kind of supposed to be there. He was peeking through the curtain that surrounded his personal stage. Buffy flipped to the next feed, which showed the main stage with a brown bear, blue-ish purple bunny, and the yellow duck that was the only girl of the group. Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie, and Chica. The bunny moved towards the camera and stared at it, like it knew it was being watched.

Buffy shuddered and moved on to another image. All clear. Kitchen didn’t work for some reason. All cle– Wait, what the hell? There was movement, then a familiar monochrome figure was on her screen, clearly having just come from the kitchen.

Damn it. Why could he never seem to leave her alone? She tried to work up some kind of anger, but, honestly, the main thing she felt through the numbness was a sick sort of relief. Stupid vampire. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why was he the only thing that ever seemed to make her feel better? Why couldn’t it be baking cookies with Dawn? Or hanging out with Willow? Well, okay, that last one was kind of a no brainer. Willow was the main one who had done this to her. And all she ever wanted to talk about was magic and how great it was that she wasn’t doing it anymore, even though she obviously wished she was still doing it.

Buffy took a deep breath and opened her eyes in time to see Spike tilt his head as he stared at the camera. Then he smirked and lifted his hand, holding up two fingers in a gesture she knew wasn’t exactly polite. Classy.

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the smile that tugged at her lips as she grabbed the flashlight from the desk drawer. Then she headed out of the office.

 

**...**

 

The place was a bit of a dump. It had that sort of ingrained dinginess that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard one scrubbed, and smelt of stale grease and old piss. Not really all that much different from some of the dive bars he’d been to, honestly. He supposed it made sense. Small children and drunks could be remarkably similar at times.

What made a bit less sense, though, was the scent of long forgotten death and horror that permeated the place. Spike couldn’t sense ghosts – was why he’d thought Buffy was one when she’s gone all over invisible a few weeks ago – but he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if there were some in the pizzeria. The energy was right for it, reverberating as it did with that special, oppressive something.

Before the tower, it wouldn’t have been the sort of place he’d expect to find Buffy unless she was clearing out a nest of nasties. Now though…. He sighed and took a deep drag from his cigarette, waiting for her to see him on the camera. He’d just started considering dropping trou and mooning the bloody thing when she finally showed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she hissed as she strode towards him.

“Could ask the same of you,” he said quietly. “Place like this,” he made a sweeping gesture with the hand holding his cigarette, “it’s not right for the likes of you. You’re a bloody hero, not a dishwasher. Not even a security guard. Though I have to say, the uniform does suit you.”

It really did. A navy blue shirt with black trousers and tie along with a shiny gold badge. She looked just enough like an officer to scare the less savvy criminals but not enough like one to get hauled in for impersonation. Just looking at her in it made him want to be naughty. Maybe she’d cuff him and punish him for his evil ways.

She looked away for a moment, showing a flash of vulnerability before glaring at him. “Yeah, well, being a hero doesn’t exactly pay the bills, does it? It doesn’t put food on the table, or pay for school supplies, or home repairs, or –”

“I can get you money,” he interrupted.

There was a wild look in her eyes, like a trapped animal considering chewing its own leg off. They’d done this to her, her oh-so-precious “friends.” Willow could muck about with the very fabric of reality enough to rip Buffy out of heaven and bring her body back to life, but she couldn’t be bothered to magic up a bit of dosh?

“I don’t want your dirty money!”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, fighting back the urge to snap back at her. It made sense she’d jump to that conclusion. Still and all, didn’t matter how logical it was. Brassed him off that she wouldn’t give him any benefit of the doubt.

“It’s not dirty,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he glanced down, feeling suddenly embarrassed. It should have been dirty. For fuck’s sake, he was a sodding _vampire_. He was also love’s bitch and bloody proud of it, so he looked back up at Buffy defiantly. “Been doing a spot of babysitting lately. For harmless demons and the like. None that you’d have to go after. Got some nevmora eggs coming in soon, actually.”

No real response to that. She just sort of stared at him blankly. Bloody hell.

 “Cute little buggers, the nevmora.” He was vaguely aware of the scent of old death getting stronger, but he was too focused on Buffy to really pay it much mind. “As hatchlings, anyway. They, uh, look like big spiders, but adorable. Then they grow up to look a lot like suvolte demons.”

“You babysit?” she finally asked, sounding incredulous.

“Shouldn’t be that big a surprise. Looked after Dawn quite a bit, didn’t–”

His words were cut off by an ungodly shriek worse than anything the nibblet had ever produced. Then something large and yellow was jumping out of the shadows at him, the stench of old death, rotted blood, and mucus coming off it in waves. He ducked as it grabbed at him, then he kicked out, driving it back.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as he stared at his attacker, trying to figure out just what he was looking at. It was bit bigger than a human, and resembled an anthropomorphic chick with a bib. A giant sodding _chicken_ had just popped out of bloody nowhere to scream in his face. How the buggering fuck had he managed to miss the bloody thing until the last minute? It was giant and yellow.

Then the moment was over, and the chicken was on the attack again, this time lunging for Buffy with another scream, twitching like it was having some sort of seizure.

“Bad ducky!” the slayer yelled, dropping down under it’s flailing arms.

“Think it’s a chicken, love.”

She shot him a glare as she kicked the thing away. “I don’t really care. It just needs to back off. And to do something about the serious B.O.”

She rushed at the chicken, ramming her shoulder into its middle before grabbing and flinging it against the wall. It screamed again, giving them a look Spike would have sworn was full of malevolent confusion, then ran off into the darkness.

“Great,” Buffy said with a sigh. “Just what we need. Malfunctioning robots.”

Spike tilted his head as he considered what had just happened. “Don’t think they’re malfunctioning,” he said thoughtfully. “Fairly certain that beastie is haunted. And given the feel of this place, I doubt it’s the only one.”


	2. 2nd Night

“…and that’s when the duck attacked. It ran off when I fought back.”

Buffy glanced around at everybody, trying to gauge if they’d bought her edited version of the events of the night before. “Everybody” in this case being Dawn, Xander, and Anya. Willow had been told this morning that there would be a meeting later at the Magic Box, but she hadn’t really been very reliable lately.

Dawn was giving Buffy a strange look, like she was about to bring up some kind of inconsistency in her story. _She knows._ Icy numbness seeped from Buffy’s core at the thought. Somehow, Dawn knew. She knew Spike had been there last night. She knew what they’d done in the guard office after –

“Duck?” Dawn repeated incredulously. “Did you seriously just call Chica a _duck_?”

She didn’t know. She was just obsessing over the stupid robot bird. The relief made Buffy giddy for a moment. Her dirty little secret was still a secret. She couldn’t hold on to that giddiness for long, but it stuck around long enough for her to play her part. She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, _so_ not caring. Duck, chicken, whatever. It attacked me.”

“Probably because you called her a duck,” Dawn muttered. “And an it.”

“The proper identification of animatronic poultry is important,” Anya said primly from behind the counter. “First you have people calling the chicken a duck, and then everyone will be confusing that horrible bunny robot for an innocent gerbil or something.” She shuddered and opened the register to count the money, probably as a comfort to herself. “Whatever evil is going on at that pizza place, I bet the rabbit is behind it somehow. You should just burn the entire place down, and all of the robots with it.”

“ _What?”_ Dawn screeched, surging to her feet from her seat at the research table. “You _can’t_ burn down Freddy’s!” She shot Buffy a glare of betrayal, like it had been her suggestion instead of Anya’s. “Yeah, okay, they’re kind of stinky, but so are you sometimes after patrol. And maybe Chica attacked you, but they’re around kids all the time and have never hurt anyone. Well, except for Jeremy Perkell at my twelfth birthday party, but that’s because he was stupid and put his finger in Bonnie’s mouth while he was singing.”

“I told you that bunny was evil,” Anya muttered. Then louder, “You do realize that you’ve probably never even been to the restaurant until Buffy started working there, right?”

Dawn flinched at the reminder that most of her memories had been created. Buffy knew she should say something. She should verbally smack Anya down and reassure her sister. She should –

“Ahn,” Xander said sharply. “You’re not helping, sweetie.”

Anya scowled and went back to counting her money. Dawn scowled and sat back in her chair, arms crossed sullenly over her chest. Great. Just what they needed. A pissy Bridezilla and a sulking teenager.

Before Buffy could try to get things back on track, the door opened and Willow rushed in. Buffy wasn’t entirely sure it was a good thing. She was all twitchy and looked pretty frazzled. There was also the fact that she and Anya still didn’t really get along, and Dawn was still upset about some of the things Willow had done with her magic. And if Spike was right about the problem being a haunting, there wasn’t really much to be done about it with computers and science.

“Sorry,” Willow said, trying to catch her breath. “Sorry I’m late. I was reading and lost track of time and….” She trailed off with a grimace and a shrug. “What did I miss?”

“Crazy robot chicken attacked Buffy,” Xander said, pretty much summing everything up.

“Um, yeah. That.” Buffy made some vague hand gestures while Willow sat down.

“So, what are we dealing with here?” the redhead asked as she slipped into the chair next to Xander at the research table. Her fingers drummed nervously at the wooden surface. “Malfunction, or is someone messing with the code of the robots? Those guys with the invisibility ray and the robotics knowledge might be involved.”

“Maybe. But, um, it might be a haunting instead,” Buffy suggested. She fought back a flinch as they all looked at her. Why had she said that? Spike didn’t necessarily know what the hell he was talking about, and one of those creepy nerds _had_ been the one to make the Bot. And April, who had been even creepier, honestly. “It’s, uh, just an idea. I-intuition. I’m good at that.”

“Did you have a slayer dream?” Willow asked, seeming weirdly eager.

“Uh, yeah. Kind of with the vague, but, um….” She trailed off with an uncomfortable shrug.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Not really. Willow hadn’t specifically asked _when_ she’d had a slayer dream or what it had been about. She’d had them in the past. So, you know, perfectly honest. Just like her rendition of the chicken encounter. Everything she’d mentioned had happened. It was just that Spike had been there, too.

Willow licked her lips, looking sort of shifty. “I, I could…. There are some spells to –”

“Tara could do it,” Dawn interrupted, not quite looking at Willow. “She can see auras and stuff, so she’d probably be even better at telling if Chica or any of the others are haunted.”

“Um, y-yeah,” Willow said, swallowing hard. She looked pale and kind of sweaty. “Tara…. She’s really good at that sort of thing.” She glanced over at Buffy. “Do… um, do you want me there, too? As moral support.”

The best friend thing to do would be to say yes, but honestly, the true answer was no, for a lot of different reasons. The biggest one being that Spike would probably show up again. Tara probably wouldn’t mention him to anyone or ask uncomfortable questions. Willow was all about the uncomfortable questions, sometimes. Instead of saying any of that, Buffy went with one of the other reasons. One she knew Willow would accept.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Will. Tara probably isn’t ready to see you, yet, and we should respect that.”

“Right. Right, yeah.” Willow nodded jerkily, then stared down at her hands, clasping them together so tightly that the fingers turned white.

Buffy knew she should be worried about her friend. That she should try to comfort her or something. But all she really felt was relief that her secret would stay a secret.

 

**...**

 

Tara shivered as she got out of her friend’s car, slinging her supply-filled messenger bag over her shoulder. The temperature wasn’t really the problem, even though it was the middle of the night in early January. Sunnydale rarely got any colder than the mid-forties. There were a lot of shivery places in town, though, and the pizza restaurant was one of them. She wasn’t even inside the building yet, but she could feel the dark energy radiating from it, a horrible, oppressive weight on her shoulders as she made her way towards the back door.

She knocked, but it was hesitant, too quiet to really be heard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Something terrible had happened here, and she had the skills and abilities to help find out what. It was frightening, but she could do this. She’d faced a lot of terrifying things in Sunnydale, and she’d come through it all, even Glory sucking out her mind and Willow manipulating her thoughts. At least she wasn’t doing this alone.

Feeling a little braver, she opened her eyes and lifted her hand to knock again. Before she could, though, the door opened. Instead of Buffy, Spike peered out at her.

“Well, hello there, pet.”

The energy was still bad – possibly even worse now that the door was open – but it suddenly seemed more bearable, knowing the vampire was going to be there with her. She’d always felt awkward around Buffy. She was the Slayer. Someone chosen to fight evil on behalf of humanity and keep people safe. Tara was just a timid, mousy little witch. She was nothing compared to the other woman. That feeling of nothingness and awkwardness had only gotten worse, compounded by terrible guilt after she’d helped to tear Buffy out of heaven.

Spike, though, she felt more at ease around. He’d been so kind and understanding after Glory had sucked her mind, even when she’d exposed him to sunlight. And he’d been there all during the summer, patrolling with her and Giles when he hadn’t been watching Dawn.

There was a sound from somewhere beyond Spike, drawing Tara back to the moment. Then she heard Buffy’s voice.

“Damn it, Spike, what are you doing?” she hissed from somewhere nearby. “Someone is going to see you!”

Spike glanced over his shoulder as he took a step back, moving out of the doorway. “Told you I heard something.”

Tara slipped into the kitchen of the restaurant and looked around, managing not to jump too much when Spike closed the door behind her. Buffy was near another door – probably leading off to the rest of the place – her eyes huge and and a guilty look plastered across her face.

“He, uh, just sort of showed up,” the slayer said, shooting a glare Spike’s way.

“He does that,” Tara agreed cautiously, offering Spike a small smile before focusing back on Buffy. She wasn’t really sure what was going on between the two of them, but there was definitely something. “He, uh, he was always showing up to help with patrols and Dawn when we needed him.”

She kind of missed those days, when she’d been part of everything. The banter and camaraderie Feeling like she’d been making some kind of difference. It had all sort of stopped once they’d brought Buffy back. And then after the breakup with Willow….

Tara took a breath and squared her shoulders. The past was in the past, and she had a chance now to help. Dwelling on things wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “There’s definitely something wrong here. I should be able to tell pretty quickly if it’s centered on the robots or not. After that, there are a few spells I can try.”

“Right, okay,” Buffy said, taking a deep breath of her own and carefully not looking at Spike. “I’ll take you to the robots.”

Tara followed her out of the kitchen, Spike a comforting presence at her back. The lights in the main dining area were dim, giving just enough light to make out the tables and chairs. And the stage, where three of the four animatronics waited.

 _Oh, god._ She froze, staring at them in horror. Her palms felt suddenly sweaty. Her mouth was too wet, like she was about to throw up. There were auras around the robots, all right. Hate and anger seethed through them. And pain. Oh, god, the pain. And if she was reading things right…. It was too horrible to immediately comprehend. She couldn’t be right. They couldn’t….

The brown bear in the top hat and bow tie turned his head to stare right at her. _Hate_. It pulsed through him, washing over everything else. As if they sensed it, the other two focused on the people in their midst. _Hate. Hate._

“W-we,” Tara whispered, her voice scratchy and paper thin. She swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. “We n-need to get away fro-from here. Now!”

 

**...**

 

The beasties started towards them, but Spike was already in motion, putting himself between them and Tara as he herded her towards the guard office. He’d worked with her enough over the summer that once she’d said they had to get away, he knew it was bloody well time to scarper. Buffy, it seemed, wasn’t having any of it. She’d taken up a fighting stance.

 _That’s my girl,_ he thought in admiration, wanting to battle by her side. Still and all, Tara knew what she was about. Something wasn’t right here, and fighting the things like as not wouldn’t do them a lick of good. Might even be that, no matter how much they tore the things apart, the spirits animating them would just keep all of the individual parts going. Spike shuddered at the thought. Demons, hellgods, and whatall, he’d take them all on, but disembodied parts moving about on their own? Just bloody creepy, that was _._

“D-don’t hurt them!” Tara called out, digging in her heels and refusing to move towards safely. Spike looked from her to Buffy. Slayer was frowning a bit, obviously itching for a fight, but also reacting to the tone of the witch’s voice. “P-please, don–”

She was cut off by her own sob, which seemed to decide Buffy. “I’ll take point,” she said, hurrying past. “Foxy’s somewhere between us and the office. Spike, you take up the rear and keep the others off us.”

They moved across the room, not exactly lollygagging, but being careful not to run. You never ran from a predator, and whatever was haunting the robots definitely had a predatory nature. Spike could feel the blood lust coming off them, like being stuck in a nest of hungry vampires. A glance over his shoulder showed that all three were off the stage and advancing. Bloody hell. At least they seemed to be going slow. For now.

An uncomfortable feeling of dread shivered up his spine as he looked away from the robots, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He hated this. He wanted to stand and fight. _Time enough for that later,_ he told himself, taking a steadying breath. Tara had said not to hurt them. Yeah, she was a gentle sort, but she’d never let that get in the way of fighting off nasties. Something was very wrong here, and it had got her all shook up. They’d get that all sorted, and then….

Buffy passed a room off to the side with no trouble, but something stirred just as Tara started by. With a curse, Spike lunged forward, grabbing her gently enough not to trigger the chip. There was a tug at his shirt as he started to turn, followed by a burst of pain as something dug into him, just to the side of his navel. It carved a line of fire towards and along his side as he finished the turn, his back to the pirate-themed foxman and his body firmly between it and Tara.

Buffy had stopped and was starting back towards them. No time for that. A glance back the way they’d come showed the bunny heading their way. He’d lost track of the bear and chicken.

“Run,” he said through gritted teeth, giving the witch a bit of a push towards Buffy. The Slayer hesitated for just a moment, looking him right in the eye. “Go!”

She went. Spike gave them a moment, then burst into motion, grunting as the fox’s hook hand tore out of him. Then he ducked under the bunny’s reaching arms before scrambling towards the office. He darted inside and slapped his hand against the button that closed the door. There was a scream from across the office, at the other door. The bloody chicken was just inside, the bear right behind it.

Buffy ran at the robots, lowering her shoulder to push them out of the room. Then she hit the button on that side, locking the three of them in and the robots out. They screamed and banged at the doors, but Spike knew from the night before that they’d hold.

He just stood for a moment with his back pressed against the door on his side of the office. Then he slowly slid down to sit. His shirt was torn, as was the flesh beneath it. Nasty looking wound that hurt like a wicked bitch, but he’d heal. At least the coat hadn’t been damaged.

“Okay,” Buffy said, taking a slow, deep breath. “Okay, so, exactly what is going on? What are those things, and how do we kill them?”

“They’re already dead,” Tara said quietly as she slowly sat down in the one chair in the room. She was pale and shaky, her scent heavy with fear and sorrow. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and started to fall. “Oh, god, it’s….” She looked down, then at Spike before focusing on Buffy. “Th-they were killed. So much pain… their souls….” She choked back a sob. “They’re _children_. Someone murdered children and trapped their souls.”

Bloody hell. Spike squeezed his eyes shut. Bloody buggering fuck. The thought of dead children brought to mind bittersweet memories of hunting orphanages with Dru. It didn’t bother him on a personal level, but Tara, and especially Buffy…. He opened his eyes, looking directly into hers. There was a wildness to them. Horror and pain. He could read them clear as a book. _Don’t see me. Don’t look. If you see me, I’ll shatter._

Shattering might actually be good for her at some point, but that point sure as hell wasn’t while trapped in an office with murdered children pounding at the door. He looked away from Buffy, leaving her to comfort herself as best she could. As much as it hurt to admit, there was nothing he could do for her right now. Tara, though….

He forced himself to his feet with a pained grunt and walked over to Tara. If the beasties held to the same pattern as the night before, they’d be stuck here until six in the morning. He’d do what he could to comfort the witch. As for Buffy…. He’d do what he could once she was able to let him.


	3. 3rd Night

Willow took a deep breath and forced herself to keep her eyes on the laptop screen. There were dead kids to investigate. It was important research, and she was the best one at looking stuff like this up. It wasn’t something she needed magic for. She just had to hack into police records to get any and all detailed information. She’d been doing stuff like this since high school. Easy peasy.

_It’d be even easier if I could use magic to boost my reading and typing speed. And maybe even boost the connection speed._

Deep breaths, in and out. Dead kids. There were dead kids, so she had to focus. She could do this, and she could ignore the fact that Tara had been at the house for a few minutes and would be back soon.

_How does she feel about me? Is she still upset? Why is it okay for her to do magic, but not for me?_

In and out. Feel the lungs expand, then retract. She had to focus. Dead kids. There were dead kids stuck inside animatronics at Freddy’s. Dangerous dead kids. Tara hadn’t been the only one to come home with Buffy. Spike was curled up under a blanket on the couch, taking a nap in a pair of sweatpants Tara had left behind. Something nasty had torn him up at the pizzeria. Willow had walked in on Buffy cleaning and bandaging the deep, jagged wound in the kitchen. She’d gotten all weird and defensive about it before fleeing to get him the sweatpants since both his shirt and jeans were soaked with his own blood.

Blood…. Tara was away getting blood for Spike, to help him heal. Willow wasn’t exactly sure why it had been Tara instead of Buffy who had gone, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Was she ready to be alone with Tara? Well, mostly alone.

Her gaze drifted away from the computer screen and towards the couch. Buffy was standing there, a strange expression on her face as she watched the sleeping vampire. Something about that….

“Buffy?” she heard her own voice call out. “Everything okay?”

Buffy babbled something about keeping an eye on the bandaging because she didn’t want Spike leaking all over her couch. There was something a little off about it all, but Willow couldn’t seem to focus. There was a sudden lump in her throat and her palms felt sweaty as her gaze jerked towards the door. Had she heard something? Tara should be back any minute. Was she…?

_Just a little magic, and she’d be with you again…._

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and clenched her fists, the pain from her nails digging into her palms bringing her to her senses. _Dead kids,_ she reminded herself. Her relationship issues and all the magic stuff wasn’t important. Not when there were dead kids.

Dead kids…. Disembodied souls, really. Well, probably. She wasn’t one-hundred percent sure what ghosts were exactly, but that seemed right. Her first big spell had involved fetching a soul from the ether. _And then there’s what I did to Buffy…._ The familiar guilt washed through her, along with the tinge of amazed pride that made the guilt even worse. If only the Lethe’s bramble spell had worked out right….

 _Okay, that’s enough. It’s over and done with. No amount of magic is going to change that._ So, she’d pulled a soul out of heaven. Compared to that, how hard could it be to send some there? It’d have to be easier, since it wasn’t going against the natural order of things. The steps and ingredients for a project like that started to come together in her mind. They’d need to be pacified first, so a calming spell. Then something to separate them out from the animatronics. And after that, some kind of banishment to remove them from the phys–

The door opened, and Tara came through, driving all of the thoughts from Willow’s mind.

 

**...**

 

She’d lived in the house for months, casually going in and out of the door on a daily basis. Often several times in just one day. There was nothing intimidating about it. It was a just a normal door that led into a normal house. And yet, Tara couldn’t bring herself to open it. Because beyond that door, waiting in that normal house, was Willow.

Tara shivered and clutched the large paper bag a little closer to her chest. It held four one-quart Styrofoam cartons of lamb blood, each one carefully doctored with powdered burba weed from the Magic Box. It was partially a thank you and partially a bribe, meant for a predator designed to eat people. And despite that, he made her feel safe while her gir… while _Willow_ made her feel like prey.

Before everything had fallen apart – _Before she used magic to violate me…._ – she had loved the way Willow would sometimes look at her. Like Willow was a moth and Tara the brightest light around. Now, though…. When she’d been in the house earlier, she’d felt like a rabbit being stared at by a starving puma. And with all of that, there was still a part of her that longed to take the other woman back. To be in her arms again, loved and cherished.

She _had_ been off the magic for a while now. Maybe… maybe that was enough. Maybe…. _No,_ she told herself firmly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Magic wasn’t the problem. Not really. Tara still used it herself, and had even done stupid, harmful things with it, like when she’d panicked and made the entire group blind to demons. The problem was that Willow wanted control, and she used magic to make things the way she wanted to them to be, instead of treating it as a powerful force to be used with care and respect. Respect for the magic itself and for the people impacted by it.

She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head. None of this was even remotely important right now. There were dead, suffering children in need of their help, and that took priority over everything else. The way being around Willow made her feel was nothing compared to what those spirits had been through. So it was time to gather up her courage and go through that door.

 _Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We’ve got some work to do now…._ Her lips quirked up into a smile as the song lyrics flashed through her mind. Then she opened the door and went inside, doing her best to ignore the way Willow was staring at her. Like the other woman was going to pounce and devour her.

“You were gone a while,” Willow blurted out at the same time that Buffy said, “Good, you’re back.”

Tara glanced from one to the other, then down into the paper bag like it held the secrets of the universe instead of a vampire’s breakfast. _Dinner,_ she absently corrected herself. It may have been morning, but Spike was nocturnal, so this would be his dinner. Assuming he’d actually had anything before he’d shown up at the pizza place. If he hadn’t, it would be… blunner? Maybe blunper if you went with supper instead of….

Tara shook her head to clear away the inane train of thought, then turned her attention to Buffy. The slayer was standing near the couch, fidgeting and glancing at the occupant every few seconds.

“I, uh, I stopped by the Magic Box for a few things,” Tara explained. “Some stuff we’ll need for tonight, and uh, s-some stuff for Spike.”

At the sound of her voice, the blanket-wrapped couch lump stirred, shifting with a muffled groan until Spike was sitting up and peering sleepily at her. He started to carefully stretch, then froze for a moment, head tilted, as he took a deep breath. The sleepiness seemed to vanish as he focused intently on the paper bag.

“Well, well, someone’s gone all out, hasn’t she?” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What’s all this, then?”

“You got hurt keeping me safe,” she said quietly. “And, I, uh… I have this plan that –”

“Oh!” Willow called out, an eager tone to her voice as she interrupted. “I, I came up with a plan, too.”

 _Of course you did,_ Tara thought with a sinking feeling. And knowing Willow, it would probably involve throwing power around in a magical display of brute force. _That’s not really fair. She’s been trying. And she’s been looking stuff up. Maybe her plan is based on what she’s learned. Maybe…._ What Willow was saying finally penetrated, and the benefit-of-the-doubt thoughts went skittering away.

“ _Banishment?_ ” she repeated incredulously. “You w-want to just _banish_ the spirits of murdered children? Th-there’s no telling what that would do to them, and, and it won’t do anything to find out who did this to them.”

Willow’s face, which had been excitedly animated, fell at Tara’s words, making her look like a kicked puppy. “I, I just–”

“Spike is bleeding,” Buffy suddenly interrupted. She flinched a little as both Tara and Willow focused on her, then on Spike. The bandaging around his torso was darker than it had been. “Not, not like all over the place, but, um, we need get that blood into him. So he doesn’t leak on the couch.” The last was said in a rush, like she wanted to make absolutely certain everyone knew that was her reasoning. “We should heat it.”

Then she scurried away to the kitchen without even taking the bag. Tara took a hesitant step in that direction, then froze at the sounds coming from the kitchen. A moment later, Buffy came back, carrying the microwave with a couple of mugs stacked on top.

“It’s quicker this way,” she said defensively, setting the microwave up. “I really like that couch. I don’t want Spike yuck all over it.”

She froze, eyes wide and cheeks reddening slightly, as if she was thinking of other forms of Spike “yuck.” Then she darted forward to take the bag from Tara, carefully pouring blood into both mugs before putting one of them into the microwave to heat.

“He’s not really bleeding that much,” Willow said dubiously. She looked bewildered, and Tara was pretty sure she wasn’t picking up on the subtext floating heavily through the air. “And there are ways to clean up blood that don’t even need magic.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the principle of the thing,” Buffy mumbled while Tara and Spike exchanged glances.

They both knew what was really going on. Back when they’d thought the bot was actually Buffy, Tara had thought she must have gone crazy to be with Spike. Since then, though, she’d gotten to know him. He didn’t have a soul, but that didn’t seem to stop him from doing good. If having some kind of relationship with him was helping Buffy, she wasn’t going to say anything about it. She’d been run through the wringer herself enough times about being attracted to people without penises. She certainly wasn’t going to chastise someone else about what their partner lacked.

“So, what’s your idea?” Buffy asked as she took the first mug out of the microwave and replaced it with the second. She handed the warmed blood to Spike, then sat down a careful distance from him on the couch, giving Tara her full attention.

“We need to communicate with the spirits. We don’t have an actual medium, but there’s a ritual I can do that will call them to us if we, uh….” She glanced at Spike, who had taken a sip of the blood and was eying her suspiciously. “If we have a proper vessel.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, having already connected the dots. His jaw clenched, and she thought for a moment that he was going to say no. Then he glanced at Buffy and sighed in defeat. “Well, then,” he gulped down the rest of the blood in the mug, then stood to grab the next one as the microwave dinged, “since you’ve gone through the bother of bribing me with properly seasoned lamb blood, might as well hear the rest of this plan. Got a feeling I’m not going to much like it, am I?”

 

**...**

 

He was floating somewhere deep within himself, only dimly aware of his surroundings. There was something in there with him. Something scared and angry that didn’t fit quite right in that space.

_“Who are you?”_

The voice came from outside, muffled and distorted, and he felt his head turn towards it. Could feel the movement of his eyes as they focused on the speaker.

_Susie._

His lips formed the word, vocal cords sending it out at the higher end of his speaking range.

_“What happened to you, Susie?”_

_My puppy died._ He felt moisture gather at the corner of his eyes. The wetness as a tear rolled down. _Bonnie said that he wasn’t really dead. He said that he had my puppy, so I followed him._

_“The animatronic spoke to you?”_

_No. It was a man in a suit. A yellow suit. He… he_ hurt _me. And…._

His body jerked and writhed, a puppet controlled by someone else’s strings and chained securely to the office chair. There was a strange sensation, the dim outside world swirling. Was he falling? He tried to stop it, but the body would not obey. He was cast adrift, formless and shapeless within his undead prison. He–

 _“It’s okay.”_ A different voice as the body and chair it was chained to was gently caught and righted. The eyes moved, bringing a beloved face into hazy focus. He tried to reach out, but the fingers wouldn’t so much as twitch. Panic tried to set it, but he felt too numb. Drifting. Cast adrift within himself…. _“He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”_

 _You can’t._ So much hate and anger in those words. It vibrated through the place where he floated, and the body began to shake. _Adults aren’t safe. You are the danger here, and we will stop you._

 _“Susie.”_ The first speaker again. _“Thank you for answering our call. Go now in peace.”_

The presence vanished, but he was blocked from taking its place, trapped just beyond the center of his own being. The plan, the plan, the bloody damn plan….

He was vaguely aware of more words being spoken, but without an active will to focus the senses, he couldn’t make out what was being said. Then another presence poured into that empty space. A dead spirit drawn within a dead body. Like to like.

_“Who are you?”_

_Gabriel._ The voice was still at a higher pitch than usual, but a little lower than Susie’s had been. Not quite as angry as she had been, this one, but it was there.

_“What happened to you, Gabriel?”_

He faded in and out as the mouth formed the words to answer the question. Drifting along. Just drif…. Could he drift all the way out? What was out there, beyond the physical bonds? What little connection he had to his senses was severed, one by one, little twinkling lights snuffed out, leaving him alone in the void…. Then he hit something, some surrounding force that gathered him up and gently pushed him back the way he’d come.

Magic. That was right. He remembered now. Tara had said this could happen, but that she could keep his consciousness from slipping fully away.

_“… are you?”_

_Cassidy._ The mouth didn’t stop forming words at that, didn’t wait for more questions. _I’m here._ He’s _here. Trapped within these walls. He’s–_

There was a horrible scream as the presence was ripped away and another took its place. The violence of it upset the balance, and he found himself yanked right up against the barrier, held partially within it like a fly in amber.

 

_I. Am. Springtrap._ His own voice, or near enough to it. And an accent to match. The children had all sounded American. This spirit wasn’t. Or at least not originally. And it was no child.

As often as he tended to point out his own evilness, it had never been a goal for him, just a byproduct that sometimes came from whatever else he happened to be doing. This being inside him, now, though…. He could almost taste it. Decay. Rot and old dust. He could breathe it in. Feel the whisper of malice against his skin. He was what he was, but everything within him rebelled against this… _thing_ that had invaded.

His body shook and writhed as he fought against the barrier. He could feel something dripping from his eyes, too thick to be tears.

_“Spike! Spike, come back!”_

The world suddenly snapped back into crystal clear focus, the spirit forced out as Spike’s consciousness flooded back in. Light. Sound. Smells. Too much. All too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the dim lighting, and covered his ears to protect against the sounds of pumping blood and working lungs. He couldn’t block out the sound of his own, harshly dragging in ragged gulps of air that he didn’t need, the scent and taste of the two humans in the room oddly comforting even as it threatened to overwhelm him.

 _Steady on, now, mate,_ he told himself, trying to get his bearings. He was curled up on the floor, the chair a splintered mess under him and the chains loose. When the bloody hell had _that_ happened?

“Hey, you okay?” Buffy’s voice was gentle as she knelt beside him. He opened his eyes, surprised and grateful at the concerned expression on her face.

“Just peachy, love,” he rasped out as he forced himself to sit up. His throat felt like he’d been gargling with road gravel, and his mouth tasted a bit like that, too.

Tara slowly came over, a thermos in one hand and a container of baby wipes in the other. He let her wipe the blood off his face while he guzzled down the blood in the thermos.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know that would hap–”

“Not your fault,” he said, waving it away before finishing off the thermos. Then he carefully got to his feet, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he considered what had happened. “But I think it’s safe to say we’ve met our child killer. And a right nasty bastard he is, too.”


	4. 4th Night

She didn’t want to think. Only to be. To do. To _feel_. Feel, feel, feel. She was definitely feeling. She felt the body underneath hers, the soft, smooth skin over hard muscles. Felt him inside of her as she…. It wasn’t enough. The thoughts crept in. Snippets of memory from the Scooby meeting.

_“Whatever killed those kids is still there.”_

And the kids were still there, too. They’d hoped that calling them into Spike and then releasing them would let them move on, but they’d just gone right back into the animatronics. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…. Her nails dug into the body beneath her until he cried out in that mix of pleasure and pain that always made her want to hurt him even more.

_“We have to figure out what kind of demon hurt those kids.”_

_Spike laughs, a dark sound with no humor. He’s sitting on the couch, huddled in his coat like it can protect him. “That was no demon, pet.”_

It all felt so good. His hands on her hips. The way he moved his own. She tried to lose herself in the sensations. She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away, leaning forward to pin them above his head. She had him trapped. Trapped, like she was trapped, a dead girl in a living body. Those dead children trapped in the animatronics. The _thing_ that had killed them….

_“H-he’s right. That wasn’t a demon.” Tara’s voice is gentle. “The, the spell I used only allowed human spirits to take over Spike’s body.”_

A human had hurt those children. And a demon was trying to help them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t….

_“He wore a yellow Bonnie suit and lured the kids away.”_

_“I told you that damn bunny would be involved in things. The entire place should be burned to the ground.”_

_A sound from upstairs, but it’s hard to focus on too many things at once. She shakes her head._

_“No, we won’t burn it all down. That’s not going to help the kids.”_

Help the kids. Help the kids. That’s what it all came down to. Help the kids get free from the bodies they were trapped in so they could go to heaven. Her hands clenched around the wrists she held, causing that pleasure/pain sound again from the body under hers. Under her, inside of her, a dead man somehow filling her with life. A dead man who had let his body be used so dead children could have a voice.

She clenched and fluttered around him, and this time there was a gasping moan as he writhed and arched against her. She knew he was holding back, struggling not to let himself go. All so she could keep using him.

No. No more thinking. She just wanted to feel. She let herself feel. Let herself push away everything but the pleasure building and swirling through her body. And when she careened over the edge, he went with her.

She lay there on top of him for a few moments, just feeling. She’d get up and leave soon, as soon as her quivering muscles would cooperate. It’s what she always did. Take what she needed, then go. Just….

He was trembling a little. He had been off and on ever since last night. Ever since he’d come back to himself, curled up on the floor and trying to hide from the sights and sounds that were too overwhelming after being away from his body. Just like her when she’d….

She rolled them over. He tensed, trying to pull away, but she wrapped her arms around him. A hesitation, then he went limp against her with a choked off sob.

Buffy held Spike in her arms and let them both just feel.

 

**...**

 

Bloody boring it was, just sitting about, watching the cameras. _Naught else I can really do, though, is there?_ Spike thought grumpily as he flipped through the camera feeds. Why had he even bothered to come along? Could have been Harris or his bird watching things while the others ran about putting up crosses and sprinkling holy water all over.

They were going to try some sort of exorcism, one targeted specifically to their child murderer. According to Willow’s research, one of the two original owners of the place had been suspected in the disappearances of several children before he’d up and vanished himself. An English bloke by the name of William Afton. Because of _course_ his name would bloody well be William, wouldn’t it? William the Bloody Yellow Bunny Rabbit. A name to strike terror in the hearts of children and centuries-old ex-vengeance demons.

He brought up the camera showing the hallway outside the washrooms, where Anya and her boy were meant to be doing their part. He snorted and shook his head. “Meant to be” was the operative phrase there, wasn’t it? Unless he’d missed something during the planning stage and a bout of tonsil hockey would help lure out their baddie.

He switched the feed. Foxy was still all snug behind the curtain of his private stage in Pirate’s Cove. The main stage camera showed Freddy and Chica still just standing about, though Bonnie was down amongst the tables, staring up at the camera. Creepy bugger, wasn’t he? Spike switched to a different camera, looking in on Tara, who was working to the left of the security office while Willow was in the right hall.

Kitchen camera was still out, but no one was in there, anyway. In fact, there was only one other place where anyone would be. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out as he brought up the feed showing the backstage area.

And there she was. Buffy. The reason he was here instead of settled at the crypt with blood and booze, watching Howard the Duck. She’d come to him after it all. He’d known she would. But he’d expected her to be cruel – even more so than usual – to punish him because the monster they were dealing with had been human. Instead she’d….

His eyes closed as he replayed it all in his head. The sex had been amazing, as it always was. And then she’d held him. It hadn’t lasted long – maybe five minutes, tops – but it had made him feel like he actually did matter to her. That he was more than just some person-shaped sex toy she occasionally found other uses for.

His thoughts drifted to the movie he was missing out on watching. It’d be near the end by now. Howard and Beverly would be together. A human woman and an anthropomorphic duck from another dimension. If they could make it work, why not a vampire and a vampire slayer?

 _Because it’s bloody fictional, you daft git,_ he thought, opening his eyes and shaking his head in disgust. God, he was such a pathetic romantic at times. At times? That was a laugh, wasn’t it? More like most of the time. Course, he’d long ago figured this out about himself and had learnt to embrace it.

Right then, was meant to be paying attention to things, wasn’t he? He looked at the monitor. The backstage area was empty. Bloody hell. The main stage was empty, too, but a change of the camera feed showed that lot all wandering about in the dining area. No sign of Buffy, but a look at Pirate’s Cove showed that Foxy was still there, so no one had been attacked while he’d been lost in his thoughts.

No one in the hallways, and even Xander and Anya had finished up near the bathrooms. If everyone was following the plan, then…. There they were, crowded together at the supply closet while Tara started up the magic.

It didn’t take long for _something_ to notice what she was about. Only a few words in, and three things happened all at once. The entire bloody building shook while there was what sounded like an explosion from the washrooms. And the power went out.

Spike jumped to his feet, cursing and sending the office chair crashing to the floor. No power meant the office doors wouldn’t close. Without those, there was no way to keep everyone safe. He bolted out of the office to round everyone up. Looked like they were done for the night and would have to figure something else out.

 

**...**

 

Dawn had gotten pretty good at picking locks over the summer, and the one on the kitchen door into Freddy’s was pretty simple. Just a moment or two, and she was in. She turned her flashlight on and snuck cautiously towards the dining area.

She’d heard them all talking earlier. There was some evil dead guy hanging around, and Anya wanted to burn the place down because of it. Burn the place and burn all of the animatronics. Her friends…. Had they been given memories of her by the monks? Did Foxy remember that time, four years ago, when an eleven-year-old Dawn had hugged him, crying silently into his fur because she’d been kidnapped a few days before by Angel?

Kidnapped…. The spirits inside the animatronics had been kidnapped and murdered. And now people wanted to burn them. Would they feel it if that happened? Animatronics didn’t have nerve endings or anything. But they also didn’t normally have human spirits inside of them.

Dawn took a deep breath and eased out through the kitchen and into the dining area. No sign of her sister or anyone else, but three of the animatronics were there, wandering between the tables. She had to admit that it was a little bit creepy, watching them after hours. _It doesn’t matter,_ she told herself. She was going to save them. Somehow.

She’d only taken a couple of steps, moving towards the bathroom hallway, then bit back a scream as the wall behind the security camera suddenly blew out, shaking the building. She fell to her knees, the flashlight falling from her hands and bouncing across the floor.

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god…._ She crawled after the flashlight, feeling exposed and like there was a huge target painted across her back. It had been a little freaky before, but she hadn’t been scared. Now, though…. The air felt heavy and too thick, like she was trying to breathe syrup. Buffy. She needed to call out to Buffy.

No. No, she couldn’t. It was after midnight. She was supposed to be home and tucked into bed. _Buffy would be pissed if she saw me here._ She’d yell and probably burn everything out of spite. _Because I’m never allowed to have anything that’s important to me…._

Mom, Buffy, Spike. If she cared about someone, they were taken away. Maybe there was nothing she could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean she was going to help things along.

She scooped up the flashlight before getting shakily to her feet. Then she crept towards the hole in the wall. There was some kind of room back there with a dingy yellow version of Freddy and Bonnie. Freddy was just sort of limp and lifeless looking, but Bonnie….

He _twitched_. Then his head moved, the eye holes pointing directly at her. Was there…? Was there something in there? The golden Bonnie jerked suddenly, getting up to his feet.

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god…._ She couldn’t seem to move. She tried to scream, but only a thin trickle of noise came out. She’d faced down monsters and a hellgod, but something about the thing lurching towards her….

“Yarr!”

The sound from beyond the hall snapped Dawn out of her paralysis, and she flung herself backwards before the golden Bonnie could grab her. But it was still there, still after her. And Foxy was rushing down the hall, hook raised high and blocking her only escape.


End file.
